


The Monster You Fear

by TCD



Series: Comeuppance [2]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chastity Device, Cliffhangers, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, No minors please, Non Consensual Cross Dressing, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Mind Safe, Shaving, Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, heed the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23883862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCD/pseuds/TCD
Summary: This is a day in the life, after Tully has left Stockton following the events of  "Dried up, Tied, and Dead To The World."
Relationships: Juice Ortiz/Ron Tully
Series: Comeuppance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721362
Comments: 7
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to hit me up on tumblr ineedthesons or Discord TCD#7446. Please heed the tags. 
> 
> Apologies to Marilyn Manson for the title.

He was alone. Not abnormal; Juice went for a run an hour or two before Tully woke up. Juice just expected Tully to be out of bed before, or soon after, he returned. Tully went with earlier, most of the time. Just in case.

The man stretched, his whole body aching with soreness. And age; Tully was not a young man anymore and the last few years had taken their toll. He crawled out from under the covers, scratching his chest and looking onto the drawers nearby. Juice always laid his outfit for the day there. Juice controlled every aspect of Tully’s waking life. To keep him from ‘letting the monster out again’ as he said. Tully was just too broken anymore to fight. And deep inside, not having any decisions on his shoulders after so long… it didn’t hurt him near as much as he thought it should. So the clothes were laid out on those drawers every day. Usually functional and comfortable, nothing too ugly. Of course, though. This time they weren’t.

Tully took the outfit off the chest of drawers and carried it to the bathroom. He had to pee.

Which he had to do sitting. The ever-present symbol of the life he had made him; his cock was locked up in a chastity cage. Juice just didn’t trust him. He put it on Tully that first morning and it only came off for baths. Supervised, of course, though Tully was allowed to do it himself. Most of the time, occasionally Juice made him sit still and washed it for him. Most often he just stared from a spot on the toilet. It was all to humiliate him. 

Once done Tully wiped himself clean, careful to dry the cage and inside as best he could. Juice would inspect it tonight and make sure Tully wasn’t injured from it in any way. Not because he cared, of course. He just didn’t like his toys broken.

Tully washed his hands and looked at the outfit again as he stripped out of his nightclothes. Into the hamper; Tully would need to do laundry. Not during the day, if he could help it. Maybe tonight; today was a special want for Juice.

He ran his hands over the fabric of the dress, and then to the garter belt and stockings he’d laid on top of that. It was a very clearly 50s inspired outfit. Something like his mother might have worn. Tully had a feeling there were pearls somewhere waiting, and he knew for a fact there were heels. Tully turned to the mirror again. He could do his makeup well enough, though he could use a shave. And his legs, and under his arms were starting to stubble. Tully sighed and kicked himself for not getting up early enough to catch Juice before his run to ask about a razor ahead of time. 

The door slammed and Tully jumped. Only a few moments later Juice came into the bathroom, sweat-soaked. Tully jumped again when Juice slapped his ass in greeting. “Like your outfit for the day?” Juice wickedly grinned as he himself looked it over. “See the panties?” He held them up; a lovely thong just for his own tastes. Tully would have never picked it. “And I trust you’ll do your makeup all pretty?” 

“Yes.” Tully flinched when Juice turned the shower on. Now he  _ couldn’t _ leave. That was one of their many rules. His many rules.

But it was his fault he needed that rule in the first place, with showers causing him so much terror he hurt himself a few times trying to flee out of the house. So he accepted it, now, that once the shower was on he had to stay put. “Sir.” He finished and glanced at Juice’s naked body before he stepped into the shower. “Sir?” Tully managed to not stutter. 

“Mm?” Juice asked languidly from behind the curtain. He must be in a good mood for whatever he had planned with Tully and the dress. The mirror quickly fogged up too; hot water for Juice, especially in the morning. 

Tully had to work to keep his voice up to be heard over the water. He tried not to speak much, or maybe he didn’t even try anymore. Just didn’t. “Need to shave. Face an’ legs. Under m-my arms.” He shifted uncomfortably foot to foot. He could go without if Juice said no, but he already looked like a man in a dress. Shaving just made it slightly less so. Another movement to his other foot as his heart began to skip a few beats.

Juice took his sweet time in answering, long enough that he turned off the water. Just the shower part, and he plugged up the drain so it would start to make a bath for Tully. “I’ll do it for you.” Juice didn’t sound mad, though, best Tully could understand his moods anymore. Just liked the idea, no doubt, of doing another thing  _ for _ Tully. Like he was a child or an invalid. 

“Anything I can bring you?” While they waited for the tub to fill.

Juice shook his head as he brushed his teeth and did the rest of the morning routine. Tully did similarly, once Juice was out of the way of the sink. Maybe he should have done all of this while Juice was in the shower, but it was too late now. Juice didn’t seem to mind. Just tugged Tully over to the bath and wrapped an arm around his waist. It might have been loving and intimate if circumstances weren’t what they were. Juice just held him until the water was at the level he wanted. It took forever, and Tully wanted to peel his skin off. Not for the first time, just for the first time that day. 

Another swat to his ass brought him out of his thoughts and Tully climbed into the warm water. Maybe it was a bit on the hot side for him, but it felt good. He wasn’t going to ask to change it, so it didn’t much matter if it was too hot.   
  
Juice sat on the edge of the tub with his feet in the water, and tapped on Tully’s calf, then patted his lap. A clear indication of what he wanted, and where, without a word. Tully set it down where indicated; he could fortunately keep it there and rest his back on the tub properly. “What’re your chores?” Juice asked as he applied shaving cream to Tully’s legs. Out of the pink can, not Juice’s blue one.

“Kitchen.” Which Tully was grateful for. Easier to do that in heels than the bathroom, when he got around to that. “Laundry.”

Juice nodded as he slid the razor over Tully’s skin. Carefully, all the way up. He did switch it to his other hand as he, as Tully predicted, brushed his fingers over Tully’s balls and pubic area. “Next appointment?”

Until his next wax. “Two weeks.” 

Another nod as the razor came up higher, over Tully’s thigh. “Been thinking about getting it lasered.” He chuckled. “Be a lot less money.”

Tully didn’t say anything. It wasn’t up to him, though it would save Tully some time. And discomfort. “But if we do that,” Juice continued, “You and me couldn’t spend this time together.” He shaved the rest of Tully’s thigh, making him stretch uncomfortably to be able to do so. Then another tap, and Tully switched. Even more uncomfortable, so that Juice could do the other one for him. “Not like you can be trusted.” He ran his finger over the scars on Tully’s thighs. Self-inflicted, horizontal lines. Done in prison with a stolen blade. Juice had seen them and declared Tully was going to be supervised for his showers from then on.

Again Tully didn’t argue. Just shivered with the cool air on the leg that Juice was working on now. He probably  _ would _ try something, given the opportunity. He hated his body that much anymore. The least of the things he hated were the tattoos that still lingered on his skin. Nothing had been blacked out, Juice hadn’t allowed it. More humiliation; Tully couldn’t help looking at the ones on his thighs as Juice brought the razor up and over them. The ones on his hands first, if he got the chance. Then maybe these.

Juice groped Tully and brought him out of his thoughts. For a moment Tully was afraid he’d ignored something Juice had said, and he looked fearfully at him.

Tully could have  _ sworn _ he saw Juice look at him sadly. But it was gone and back to the arrogant joy Tully was used to. “Done down here.” Juice held out the shaving cream now, for Tully to apply.

He sat up so he was out of the water, and squirted some on his hands before he applied it to his armpits. Tully hesitated, unsure if Juice wanted to do this part too. When Juice didn’t get up from his spot perched on the edge of the tub, Tully stood and took the razor on his way up. He watched Tully especially closely, now that he had the blade and stood over him like this.

Not that Tully would try anything. He just concentrated on getting his skin stubble free. He rinsed the blade by bending down and swirling it in the water, chancing a look at Juice. Juice was looking right back at him, so Tully dropped his gaze. He continued until both armpits were clear, rinsing the blade and the remainder of the shaving cream from his skin. Tully couldn’t help but notice Juice had some stubble of his own; he must not have shaved his head recently. He engaged his mouth before his brain as he handed over the razor again. “W-want me to get your scalp?” Tully cursed himself for being so forward. What if Juice thought he thought Juice couldn’t take care of himself? What if--

Juice just ran his hand over his scalp and chuckled. “Not today. Maybe tomorrow.” He reached and unplugged the drain. And then just because he could, it seemed, swatted Tully’s backside as he stepped out. Juice followed him, and perched on the toilet tank. He waited until Tully got the shaving cream on his face, then handed back the razor.

They were both nude, but Tully felt naked as he shaved under Juice’s watchful eye. He was particular about getting his neck. Concealer could only do so much. 

The tank top rattled as Juice slipped off the toilet, and the sound made Tully jump. Fortunately not enough to make him cut himself, or unfortunately. Juice passed behind him, and out the bathroom door. He was back in a mere moment, kneeling by Tully’s legs.

Jingling of keys and Tully was suddenly free of his cage. Juice was inspecting and drying him off, making sure the inside of the cage was clean and dry too. Tully didn’t twitch down below, not even in the slightest. He was just that disconnected from his body that not even a young, attractive man like Juice could make an erection happen. Or could make Tully stop shaving. Just continued while he was touched and dabbed with toilet paper. Juice was at least never rough with his cock and balls. Clinical at worst, as he was now as he locked Tully back up and stood. “Done?”

It was more a statement than a question and he really was as done as he could be besides, so Tully rinsed the razor and returned it, then his face before drying it off. “Alright.” That nasty grin was back. Whatever gentleness he had had was gone and Tully couldn’t help but feel slightly sad. Those little scraps of tenderness were really the only thing keeping him from throwing himself into traffic, and they were few and far between. “Get your pretty face on.” Juice slapped Tully’s ass one more time for good measure on his way out, and finally left him alone.

Tully started to dig out his makeup, forcing away tears and sadness until he was properly numb. He went through the motions. Primer, foundation, concealer, contour. Eyes, then lips and finally setting powder for it all. He leaned back and looked at himself then. Passable as a woman, in the dark after a few beers. Pale skin, smokey eyes, and fuck-me red lips. Just the way Juice liked it. Tully stepped away from the mirror and once more found the outfit. He considered just sitting on the toilet to dress, but picked it back up to carry to his room.

Tully didn’t have a problem getting it all on. The fancy panties, stockings and garter belt. The bra that held nothing, and then the dress. “Fuck.” He looked down at himself. At least the dress showed off his best assets-- his legs. He stepped out, still feeling clownish, and made his way to the front hallway. The shoe cubby was there, maybe half full of different shoes. Mostly Juice’s, but some were Tully’s. Boots for the outside, tennis shoes. A pair or two of Doc Martens, the tall ones. Tully could only wear those on very special occasions, though. That was the theory, he hadn’t gotten a special occasion good enough for them.

Then there was the jewel of Juice’s? Tully’s? collection. A pair of red-soled Louboutins, with a relatively low heel on them which Tully was glad for. He took the black patent leather from the closet, brushing a bit of dust off of the toe of one of them. Any taller and he’d probably break a hip; Tully already worried about breaking an ankle.

He set them down and slipped into them. Hating them in their entirety as he looked. How expensive he knew they were, and how comfortable they really were because of the quality. Tully still felt like a damn giraffe though. A newborn one, as he wobbled toward the kitchen. It always took a few steps to find his footing.

Juice was there, leaning on the counter and watching him over the glass of green breakfast shake. Tully would be on his own for food. “Damn, baby. Turn around for me.” He smirked as he said it, setting the glass down. Tully was awkward as he turned, but not enough because Juice let out a low whistle. “So good with those long legs.” He finally stepped out of the way so that Tully could get something cooked for himself. He didn’t particularly enjoy eating, but even Juice’s healthy shit was better than prison chow. Especially since, during that last year, the men of the AB table at the chow hall tended to take the best food right off his tray. Tully decided on oatmeal, brown sugar and cinnamon with mixed berries in it as well. No bananas, but Juice might make him have one another time.

He set a bowl by the stove to work on his breakfast, already rinsing the dishes that Juice left. His calves already ached. Moving would help, and he carefully loaded the dishwasher. “Too skinny, Tully. Make sure you eat this too.” He hadn’t heard any dishes clanking, though he’d been deep in his thoughts so that wasn’t abnormal. Tully turned to look. Juice had somehow near-silently spread a piece of toast with peanut butter, and topped with slices of those damned bananas. Tully’s gut flipped but pulling a face was out of the question. Juice had never  _ done _ anything but the threat was enough. And Tully had been whipped plenty in prison for objecting to anything; it’d been mostly beaten out of him by the time he’d arrived here… a year ago? He couldn’t remember.

“Thank you.” Tully said lifelessly while he stirred the oatmeal. No appetite, but he’d eat for the energy to do his chores. There was a pot of coffee half-drunk, and after Juice gave permission Tully made himself a mug. A little cream, a little sugar, and Tully sipped it as he finished the oatmeal. It didn’t take long and he poured it into the bowl; Juice had put the toast on a plate nearby. Grabbing both Tully sat across from the other man, thinking that he’d need to reapply his makeup after breakfast. He was leaving marks on the mug. 

“I’ve got a lunch meeting.” Juice wasn’t looking at Tully, but down at his phone. “Need you to bring me lunch for afterward. Feelin’ homemade, not drive-through.” 

Tully’s head jerked up. Rare he went out at all, not without Juice. Certainly not looking the way he did. “I ca--” Juice just shot him a look and any protests that had bubbled up died on his tongue. “An-anything in particular?” Tully instead asked. Now he really didn’t feel good, but he still picked at it and nibbled at the piece of toast. “S-sir?” after he managed that bite, somehow not gagging on the banana.

Juice hummed and rinsed his glass. “Club sandwich, a coke, and, hm….” He leaned on the sink once more. “You pick dessert for me, huh?” That sunshine smile, but with darkness behind it instead of any sort of light. “Make it good for me, sweetheart.” He came off the counter and bent over Tully to kiss the top of his head. “Be good. See you at one,  _ Veronica. _ ” 

Not that Tully would do anything else, but he nodded regardless. He jumped when the door slammed, but then he was alone. The tears finally dropped as he finished his peanut butter and banana toast, necessitating a full makeup refresh.


	2. Chapter 2

Tully occupied himself for the next few hours cleaning. Scrubbing took his mind off of everything, and the visible results of his efforts lifted his mood a little bit. Even the ache and awkwardness had worn off and Tully was moving about maybe not effortlessly but certainly less effort than before in his $700 heels and pretty dress. Any pleasure he felt wasn’t to last though as Tully eyeballed the contents of the fridge. Club sandwich and soda was easy, the makings were there. There were no prepped desserts, so he’d have to make some.

He flipped into the pantry. Brownies were the first thing Tully spotted; he could follow a box mix. So he got it down, and gathered the rest of the ingredients. Mixing in a bowl, and pouring it into a brownie pan. Tully even snuck a tiny taste of the batter from the side of the bowl when he was done. (He ignored how his brain told him that there was no sneaking involved, no one else was around.) With the oven preheated finally Tully slipped the pan into it and closed the door.

He took the time while it was baking to sit. He should read or do something, but Tully just didn’t have the energy. Or will to do anything but was expected. He felt like a robot, on idle until its master gave another order. Juice would like that analogy. He was a programmer, who was finally successful in getting an unruly machine to do his bidding.

Though Tully wasn’t a machine. He ached again from the pause in work, the oven timer going off for the brownies. As he pulled out the pan Tully considered “accidentally” losing his balance and falling face forward onto the still-hot oven. But he didn’t. Just set the tray on a grate to cool and went to start the laundry. Then do more sitting and staring at a spot six inches in front of him, until the cooling timer went off and the washer stopped its rhythmic thud-thud-thudding.

16 small ones or nine big ones? Tully didn’t know which Juice would like better. He barely contained the tears at his frustration and anxiety, and had to set the knife down and walk away before he ruined his makeup. Or hurt himself again and get his privileges taken away. Again. Tully shifted the laundry over to the dryer and got it running. Tully returned to the kitchen and began to make the sandwich, packing it in an insulated lunch bag. The brownies were looming in the periphery of his vision, setting his heart to thumping again. Brownies.  _ Brownies _ were giving him anxiety. His damned life.

But he deserved it; Tully didn’t disagree with Juice’s assessment that he was a monster. The corrections system had never managed to properly punish him, so  _ someone  _ had to. Tully realized he’d frozen with the can of coke in his hand and he had to hurry before he was behind schedule.

In the end Tully decided on the 16 small ones and included two in Juice’s lunch bag. He slipped out of the house, putting on a jacket against the cold. And the stares. He got into the SUV that was “his” when Juice wasn’t driving them both, and started the relatively short commute to Juice’s office. It was one of those sprawling campuses but Tully had been a couple of times so he knew what building. This was his first time going in, however, and he was legitimately terrified. 

He parked in a visitor’s spot and checked his phone. It had beeped en route but if Juice had told him if he ever suspected Tully of texting or even checking his phone while driving, he’d take the SUV and beat his ass afterwards. Tully suspected, though never confirmed, that any other traffic violation would result in the same consequences.  _ “I let Amy know to expect ‘Veronica Tully’ to be asking for me. Just ask for Juan Carlos.”  _ And Tully had to talk to someone too now? He wanted to die. He grabbed the lunch bag and went inside, luckily not stumbling over his feet. He couldn’t ruin the heels.

There was a woman not too far from the entrance. “Hi! How can I help you?” Presumable Amy; her voice was chipper. And she had a nice smile, sweet eyes. Tully didn’t really note any other details. 

His blood was too busy rushing in his ears, and his breath briefly caught in his chest but he managed to quietly speak. Tully hadn’t had time to even think about trying to conceal his deep voice and he knew heat was showing in his cheeks. “I b-brought lunch for Juan Carlos. ‘M Veronica Tully.”

Amy must have experienced some shit in her life because her demeanor didn’t once change. “Oh yes! He told me to expect you. Let me buzz him.”

Tully shifted foot to foot while Amy picked up her phone. “A Veronica Tully for you? Yes, I’ll let her know.” She hung it up. “It will be a few minutes, he’s just about done with his meeting. Have a seat.” Amy gestured to one of the chairs. “Water or anything for you?”

Tully just shook his head, not wanting to talk more than necessary. Amy was kind, saying ‘her’ and ‘she.’ Tully knew he looked terrible. In general, but certainly as a woman. All for Juice’s kicks. For Tully’s humiliation. He fiddled with his phone, starting a game of Plants Vs. Zombies to mindlessly pass the time. In a previous life he might have pulled up an e-book, but that wasn’t now.

“Hey there sweetheart.” Juice was looking down at him, smiling. It didn’t completely reach his eyes and Tully’s stomach dropped. Juice was upset, and was going to take it out on him later on. It didn’t matter that Tully hadn’t actually done anything. He was just a punching bag.

“H-hi baby.” Tully held the lunch bag up. “Brought you lunch. J-just like you asked.” The tears were threatening. Again. “An’ got more brownies at home.”   
  
Juice nodded and took the insulated bag. “Brownies, sounds good. Club sandwich and coke?” Tully nodded, keeping his head a little low so the wetness on his eyes didn’t streak his makeup. “Good. Ain’t gonna keep you.” Juice stepped back and peeked into the bag while Tully stood awkwardly. “Two, score!” For a moment the carefree Juice that Tully had only met once or twice in all the time he knew him was there, and then it was gone again. “Thanks sweetheart.” Juice stepped into Tully’s space and got up onto his tiptoes to plant a kiss on Tully’s lips. “See you later.”

Tully wanted to rip his skin off even more than usual. Kisses like that, he’d never given. He’d never wanted to give them, knowing what it meant to those punks he’d had. “L-later.” Tully faked a smile and headed back out to the SUV. He climbed in, refraining from wiping his face of the unbidden tears until the campus was well in his rear-view. There were already lines in his makeup; he didn’t want to smudge it. 

That thought caught Tully hard in the chest. That he  _ cared _ about such things. Makeup he didn’t want to put on in the first place. Brownies he wouldn’t have otherwise baked. How he wasn’t going home, but to a place as good as prison where he hated himself. It wasn’t like he had any choice though. If he actually  _ did _ anything, not even about it but anything at all, he would go back to Stockton. 

But he did have a choice. He turned off the highway onto the canyon, and slowed down. Tully could just… leave. He had the SUV. A quick stop at the house to get out of this ridiculous outfit, ransack for his cage keys and bail. A change of car and a pause for a bugout bag he knew was hidden...and he could be free.

The only bugout shelter he knew of, though, was full of AB guys. Tully would be homeless, which really he was too old for anymore. And Juice’s place, it was a roof over his head, three meals a day… 

Despair rolled over him. That he was thinking that way meant all hope was gone. Pain rushed through Tully then and the tears once more started falling. More intense though; tears and snot and saliva and he barely stayed in the lines of the road.

Through all that, he saw something ahead of him. An exit, of sorts. Tully kicked off those heels, feeling suddenly calm. There wasn’t a lot of room left but he still put the gas to the floor anyways. 

The last thing he remembered hearing was “On-Star, we’ve detected you’ve been in a crash. Can you respond?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending on a cliffhanger, though I do have more written it's just pure self-indulgence. If yall like to read, I can type it up. And yes, I'm working on My Comforter.


End file.
